


Pour Some Sugar On Me

by shesagoodgirl



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Drug Addiction, Drugs, Love Interest Luke, M/M, Sugar Baby Michael, Sugar Daddy Ashton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:05:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1657538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shesagoodgirl/pseuds/shesagoodgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is a full time med student, trying to make ends meet with his flatmate, Calum who's busting his own ass working two jobs and as well going to med school. Michael discovers what he believes to be an easy solution to his money problems, being a sugar baby. His sugar daddy, Ashton, is old money with unfortunate partying habits, a gambling addiction, and a drug addiction who has no boundaries to show his affection to his sugar baby. Michael is secured to Ashton, though, by his money and gifts, when he is charmed by another student his age, Luke. He can't afford to break out of Ashton's grip so finds other, subtle means instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Michael seethed at the detective. It was too early, his head felt like a thousand pound weight, he was sweaty and gross in his crumpled, stained button up and entirely too hung over to be doing this. 

“I don’t fucking know what happened last night. Sir.” he spat, his voice harsh and low so only they could hear.

“Son, we have you on camera, breaking a bottle over an officer’s head, crying about your “daddy Ashton” at the same party he was at,” The detective air quoted, he bent down in front of Michael, his rank breath spilling over Michael’s sweat glistening face. “We need to know what happened to him. Or you’re going to jail for assaulting an officer on top of prostitution and manslaughter.”

Michael sneered at the way the detective talked down to him, how he got in his face as if it was okay to threaten him with jail time. He felt over the gashes on his handthat made him wince, that no one bothered to clean up for his drunk self. He rubbed the back of his neck as best he could, the pain of sleeping on metal the whole night evident in his neck. Michael inhaled sharply and glanced at the waiting detective who’s arms were crossed.

“I’m a kid! I’m a bloody kid, in college, trying to find a way to make ends meet. He helped me, I helped him. That’s all. I don’t fucking know what happened last night. You can’t do a damn thing to me for telling the truth, both you and I know that.” Michael’s wail calmed down to an intimidating tone, gradually growing quiet with each word.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, cuffed wrists sat on the table. “Can I at least get out of these damn things,” Michael shook his sore wrists in the air, waiting for the key to unlock.

“Unfortunately not.” The detective paced around the room. “You have no clue as to what went on last night? Or this morning? How Irwin was found dead from an O.D. on a prescription _he didn’t have_? It’s just coincidence that you, a pharmacology student at the top of your class granting you medical access to this particular medication, were dating him?” The detective lay down an evidence bag of the leftover medication.

“Yes,” Michael spoke lowly.

“Or were you just whoring off of him?”

“No!” he got louder.

“Is that what it’s called? Having sex with someone twice your age to get dirty money, but paying them back by killing them?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him!” Michael shouted with his words echoing the tiny room. His face was scarlet with anger, his neck and face veins protruding and pulsing on the surface.

The glaze in Michael’s tired eyes was gone, now replaced with fury and hatred for the detective, for Ashton even. How the fuck even dare he? Ashton said it was only recreational. The stupid bastard promised to be around to bail him out of anything, he had enough money and smarts for it. Apparently not enough intelligence to go and accidentally overdose, though.

The detective’s head nodded, visibly unconvinced by Michael’s plea. He sat down across the table, leaning into his folded arms.

“You know, when I first read over your history, I didn’t believe you did it. I asked if it was a prank, if they were just trying to scare you into being a more well-rounded kid.” He paused, Michael’s face was contorted into a questioning manner, like he was trying to figure out where this was headed. “You’re a good kid, Clifford. Why did you throw it away? Why did you risk your enrollment, your degree, the rest of your life for a man who tricked you into love?”

“I didn’t,” he interrupted, teeth gritted hard. “I didn’t love him, never did, never will.”

“So you just have a full bank account because mommy and daddy, the real one I mean, flew you off with it? You were dating this man for fun? As a joke? What was it, Michael?” The detective waved his arm, waiting for an explanation to Michael’s charades.

“ _You_ think _you_ have it figured out, locking up a student who needed money to live. Do you even know how hard it is to pretend to like someone, to pretend to enjoy the sex, throwing away valuable study time to go on dates and to parties? Maybe if you asked your wife, she’d explain this world to you.”

The detective chuckled sincerely at Michael’s strong wit. “Okay, okay. I get it easy money from a desperate guy, but still, why? Why give him the drugs, feed into his addiction? Why follow in his footsteps, Michael?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Michael shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. Ashton was dead, it wasn't like they were going to hear his side of the story.


	2. Daddy's Got A 'Stang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael's first "date" with Ashton reveals to Michael how hard being a sugar baby just might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The manners I have set for the characters (mostly Ashton, let's be honest) do not depict how I feel about them nor how they act in real life. This is all purely fiction. Also, Michael and Calum are about 19 maybe 20 years old while Ashton's nearing his late 30's.

The grungy reflection of the mirror only half showcased how Michael felt. This was his first date since high school, not to mention his first date with a sugar daddy. Nervous couldn’t express this feeling, absolutely nothing could.

He straightened his tie out, smoothing down his button up, and throwing on his suit jacket before fixing his hair in place one last time. He researched on how these things went, albeit the stories and tips were from straight sugar babies, as they were called, but he figured it couldn’t be much different.

 _Let him treat you like royalty. Accept gifts with gratitude, even if you don’t like it or have one already. Be sure to act your sweetest and kindest, even if it means faking it. Confidence is key. Treat your daddy with the utmost respect, do everything they ask of you._ Michael distracted himself with the ‘rules’ of being a sugar baby.

His thoughts were interrupted with a wolf whistle. “Lookin’ good Mike,” Calum complimented. He was balancing a terms book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. “Why you dressed up so special-like, got a date with a hottie,” he carefully nudged Michael, winking at him and kissing his cheek, a normal household habit, before setting his things down on the desk behind him.

“You could say that,” Michael muttered still transfixed on his tie. His fingers felt numb and large fumbling over his outfit.

Calum came behind him, his own fingers working like magic over the material, instantly smoothing everything down like Michael was trying to do. He rested his head on Michael’s shoulder, admiring his friend all cleaned up and fresh-looking.

He hummed, “You’ll be great, tiger.” Calum carefully chose a cologne from the dresser also behind them (they couldn’t really afford a bigger apartment) and rubbed a little into Michael’s neck.

Although he hated being taken care of like a child, Michael was grateful for Calum’s motherly habits. He smiled bashfully and ruffled the younger boy’s dark hair and headed through the apartment to the front door.

“Gotta go, can’t be late,” he yelled behind him.

“It’ll be love at first sight, I promise,” Calum encouraged; he smiled at his friend’s eagerness and headed back to studying for his own long night ahead.

 

Michael waited outside the apartment building, looking out for a black Mustang. _Of course a Mustang_ , he rolled his eyes, rereading the text. _All rich people have Mustangs don’t they._

Just as he began to despise rich people, the black Mustang rolled up right on queue. “Tinted windows,” Michael scoffed to himself. He waited for Ashton to emerge and greet him.

He was tall, not as tall as Michael, but a pleasant height that hadn't made him stand out as much. A dark scruff adorned his softly featured face matching his curly, almond brown hair. His eyes were a green? No hazel, Michael concluded, that looked sunken in and almost lifeless. His suit was evenly pressed and shoes somewhere between shining and sparkling.

Ashton raised out his hand towards Michael for a simple handshake. Michael took it, his hands feeling miniscule and baby-like compared to Ashton’s rougher and quite larger hands. He stared between the point where they met, watching the engulfing way of Ashton’s hand.

A cough from Ashton shook Michael from his trance, a sudden frightening feeling about this whole thing clouded his mind. What if Ashton didn’t like him? What if he couldn’t live up to Ashton’s standards? What if Ashton thought he was too young or naïve to be anywhere around him or in his life? A wave of self-consciousness hit him like a speeding truck.

“You okay,” Ashton questioned Michael’s wellbeing, already getting handsy with him.

The weight of Ashton’s hands on his shoulder and waist felt stronger than it really was. Michael blinked the daze from his mind, half nodding his head. “I’m fine, thank you.” He smiled as best he could.

“Well then. You look spectacular tonight, Michael.” Ashton complimented, reminding him of the way Calum had earlier.

He stuttered his way through his words, “You… You look… Well-amazing, I really like your shoes.” He mentally punched himself in the face, hiding the wince of his own words until Ashton chuckled. Michael’s cheeks went rosy from embarrassment.

“Should’ve told me how cute and innocent you’d act. Would’ve taken you out sooner.” Ashton drawled. He opened the door blindly, “In you go,” he held Michael’s hand as he slid in, getting in by himself on the other side not even two seconds later.

“So, babe, tell me more about yourself,” Ashton drove with one hand gripping the steering wheel and one rested in between them. The two had talk for a few months over a specialty site, but then still were practically strangers.

Michael turned to look at Ashton, admiring his manly features and rugged-but-cleaned-up and handsome look. “I-uhm.”

Ashton reciprocated the glance, checking the boy out before focusing on the road once more.

“What do you do for fun?”

Michael wanted to laugh, when did he ever have time for so called fun anymore. “I don’t get to have fun,” he snorted.

“And why not? A pretty boy like you ought to have at least a hundred admirers lining up at your door. You must’ve been busy with them?” Michael blushed again at Ashton’s words, he shook his head. “What do you do for not-fun then?”

“Study. Go to school. ‘S about it.” He shrugged positioning his eyes back to streetlights flying by outside.

Ashton hummed in consideration. “No more small talk, we’re here.”

Michael gawked at the glimmering restaurant complimented by the slow waves of the lake.

His door was open and he was being helped out of the car by Ashton. “You’re gonna catch flies like that, honey.” He tipped Michael’s jaw shut, lingering his touch on his chin.

The heat of Ashton’s stare and touch sent uneasy shivers to Michael’s spine.

“Alrighty, then, don’t want to keep the cook waiting,” Ashton cleared his throat. He led Michael with a hand on his lower back, opening a few sets of doors along their way. Ashton pulled Michael’s chair out, letting him take his seat before Ashton took his.

The view was beautiful, Michael thought, if only he were here on some different occasion feeling slightly less smarmy about this predicament. Waves were licking the gravelly shore with the dim of the setting sun and scattered street lights casting their shine to make the water gleam. Various birds were chirping, locating their nest for the night, the jumping of fish slowing down with the rustling of beach grass in the wind. The whole scene looked like something from Michael’s imagination. He cleared his mind with the first glass of red wine, some high end brand he could be arsed to remember.

“…med school, right?” He heard Ashton pick up conversation.

“Hm?” He sipped from his wine glass, Ashton laughed.

“I said, If I remember correctly, you go to med school, right?”

“Uh, yea, yes I do.”

“What are you studying for? Gonna be one of those handsome doctors? Try your hand at gynecology?” Michael’s stomach lurched at the older man’s slimy smile from his so called joke.

“No, actually I’m studying pharmacology.  Like, interactions and uses for drugs and medicines and stuff like that.” Michael stated matter of factly.

Ashton raised an eyebrow, sincerely interested in what the young boy was studying. He sat back in his chair, humming into his wine glass before taking a sip.

Michael’s gaze went back to the shore. “You like the view?” The man chimed back in.

“It’s stunning,” he breathed.

“Figured it’d be a nice re-location.” Ashton gloated while Michael sat stunned.

“You own this place?” He nearly shrieked. The restaurant had to be worth at least a million dollars with all the dark oak and ornate glass figures and lighting. Not to mention the place probably had a cellar of wine filled with high end and aging bottles.

Ashton nodded nonchalantly. “Yup, passed down from my grandpa to my father to me. Unfortunately this may be the end of its journey. Got no one to hand it down to. My father never forgave me for that, died a bitter old man over his son’s choices.”

Michael couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for the man, although a little awkward that the conversation was this deep already. “’M sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright he was a skeevy bastard anyway. Liked by few, plotted on by many let me tell ya. As soon as he croaked, I rebuilt this place right here on the lake, closer to the high class part of town and business couldn’t be better. I’ve got people waiting months to get into here, y’know how ego-boosting that is?” Ashton laughed, he was booming with energy now. “Don’t answer cause it’s possibly the best thing to have ever happened to me.”

Not knowing what else to do, Michael sipped on his third glass of wine, laughing along with Ashton, and forgetting the plates that had been set in front of them. The rest of the conversation went well, Michael found out that as well as the man’s revenue from his family’s restaurant, he earned big bucks gambling on all sorts of things from horse racing to football and baseball games.

“Well I’ll tell ya.” Ashton sighed relaxed, he finished off his fifth glass of wine while Michael hadn’t gotten through his third, yet. “Care for a walk down by the shore?” Michael shrugged, he was tired with the weight of alcohol filling his veins, he’d never been a big drinker. “C’mon, it’s a classic move, Mike.”

He wanted to vomit at the nickname, no one but his mother had called him that, but rule number one was to please your sugar daddy. “Sure,” Michael perked up, waiting for Ashton to pull out his chair and guide him to the water.

 

They strolled through the wet and dry pebbles mixed in the sand and dodged the varying amounts of overgrown grass scattered throughout the shore. Ashton was a big talker, Michael had concluded, which was great, he guessed, he didn’t really have to keep up on conversation much. He just allowed the older man to ramble on about his life and discoveries with his sexuality and all this and that.

It wasn’t until the man’s shoulder brushed up against Michael that he had noticed how close they were. The uneasiness settled back into the pit of his tummy.

“This was an amazing night, Michael,” Ashton spoke below a whisper, he grabbed for the younger’s hand and spun him around to face him. He smiled graciously to Michael, rubbing his thumb across the boy’s softer skin.

Michael wanted to break away to deny the impending kiss. _You have to you have to you have to you have to. It’s one kiss, just one, it’s only a kiss._ He repeated to himself.

A dry set of lips came on to Michael’s they tasted like the wine and whatever fish they had for dinner only with a mix of ashtray and some other pungent alcohol he couldn’t put his finger on. Ashton kept deepening the kiss, his tongue protruding into Michael’s unwelcoming mouth, only he hadn’t caught on. Michael hummed, tried his best to sound pleased with the actions of hands roaming his body and squeezing at his butt.

Finally the kissing had stopped, Ashton’s teeth caught Michael’s lip before he placed his own lips over Michael’s chin and neck, causing what he thought were sincere moans of pleasure from the college boy.

It all stopped, to Michael’s relief. “Let’s get you home, then,” Ashton huffed genuinely out of breath. He took the smaller hand of Michael’s and practically dragged him to the car. Michael was let inside with Ashton again right behind, finding his mouth once more. Michael rolled his eyes, accepting Ashton’s need to make out.

The older man fumbled with his keys, still kissing into Michael’s mouth, to start the engine. He pulled away, putting his Mustang in drive and speeding off.

“This… this isn’t the way to my apartment,” Michael advised.

Ashton peered over, his eyes were mixed with the dark of lust and alcohol, he grinned, “Never said I was taking you to your home, dear. You get to spend the night with me.” Michael’s heart stopped, his breathing shallowed out. He knew he didn’t want to do this, not at all, but in his head, there was no other choice.

He needed this man’s money so instead he nodded enthusiastically.

 

Michael woke up to a heavy, heated and slightly sweaty body encasing his. He felt wrecked and used, negative feelings of all types swarmed his mind, he wanted to cry at how gross he felt, how sore he was. Tears pricked at his roaming eyes. Ashton snored boisterously, the tears had to wait.

He woke up beaming at Michael, lids drooped and filled with sleep.

“How are you, baby,” he questioned with a gravely, hung over voice.

The feeling of his stomach dropping set in a third time in not even a full 24 hours. Michael’s eyes darted to the pristine white ceiling and then back to Ashton covered in a glowing white bed sheet.

“Great,” he lied through his deceivingly smiled lips.

“Great,” Ashton repeated, rubbing sleep from his eyes and stretching with a bellowing grunt. “You need to get to class, don’t you?”

The clock read 10:42, Michael’s class didn’t start for over an hour, but a long shower was in store. “Erm, yea, I should probably get going.” He grinned weakly at the greasy-looking man who was already half asleep.

“Mm alright, take whichever car you want, doesn’t matter to me.” He waved somewhere towards the direction of the garage. Michael stared incredulously at his spendthrifty ways.

“Okay,” he stammered, throwing his clothes back on from the floor.

“Oh, before you go, darlin’,” Michael watched as Ashton leaned over to his bedside table, popping something into his mouth and grabbing for his wallet. “Here, no need to sign only use the pin, it’s on the back of the card, just tell me what you buy, sweetie, I’ll pay for everything.” He handed over to Michael a credit card in his name.

A rosy color set into his cheeks, “Uh, thanks, thank you.” He wanted to laugh with joy, it was only the beginning and he had a credit card in his name to be paid for by his sugar daddy.

“No problem, baby, come give daddy a kiss good bye,” Ashton pointed to and puckered his lips.

Michael’s elatedness died out, he bent over the bed, pecking Ashton a kiss before being playfully shooed out the door.

 

There were five sets of keys on the little hanger next to the glass garage door. Michael hadn’t a clue about car types, he only drove what he could afford to and from campus. He plucked the familiar set of keys from the rack, unlocked Ashton's Mustang from the door to locate it, and set off, hopping in and resting his head back into the seat.

He wiped at his eyes, the couple glasses of wine he had last night worked on him, his eyes were heavy and dry. His phone buzzed in the jacket pocket beside him, he’d accidentally left it in the car due to Ashton’s rush for sex. Michael was in shock having over 10 missed calls and 15 plus unread texts, all from Calum.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling his number up on the screen and calling him.

“Where the hell are you?” Calum picked up instantaneously, his voice rattling Michael's laden head.

“Dude, calm down, I’m fine. I slept over at my date’s house, I’m okay,” he lied a second time that morning.

“Oh,” Calum’s demeanor changed. “So it was _that_ kind of date. How good was he? Is he a bottom or top? Is that what you call them? I dunno. How was he, though?”

Michael wanted to simultaneously laugh at Calum’s acceptance but shudder at how oh so wrong he was.

“I’ll tell you when I get home.” He stuck with laughing.

“Well, I’ll see you then. Don’t take too long, you’ve got class.” Michael sighed loud enough for Calum to hear. “Right, sorry. Just looking out for you… _sweetie_.”

Michael’s empty stomach churned unpleasantly, he held back the nausea threatening him to gag. “Yea, see ya.” He ended the call shortly, his stomach only felt worse, Michael clutched it to end the feeling.

He started up the car, lucky his father had taught him the only thing he really knew about cars, how to drive stick and manual. Michael sped as fast as he could away from the wretched mansion.

**Author's Note:**

> let's see how this goes, idk how often i'll update just keep a lookout. i feel this is cliche with the predicted love triangle but i'll give it a shot if you will.


End file.
